


Proof Mark

by lillianmmalter



Series: HM Queen Peggy [4]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Class Differences, Duck Shoot, F/M, Flirting, Guns, Shooting Guns, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 14:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17747384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillianmmalter/pseuds/lillianmmalter
Summary: Proof mark: The mark that proves a gun has passed a stress test and is therefore safe to use responsibly.Or, Daniel is invited to a duck shoot with the King.





	Proof Mark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AgentMint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentMint/gifts).



> For [AgentMint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentMint/pseuds/AgentMint). This is probably not what you had in mind as a gift, but you commented on the last chapter of HRH that "SSR agents impressing the upper class with their shooting skills is a terrific idea," so I went with it. I did try to put at least a couple of your prompts in here though. Hopefully you like it.
> 
> It was such a relief to write in this universe again. Thanks go to [truth_renowned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned) for betaing, and Ellix for cheer reading.
> 
> On the King's speech patterns: George VI’s stutter mostly revealed itself in the way he pronounced certain words and pauses in odd places as he spoke, not the repeated consonants you often read/hear in media featuring stutterers. To try to capture this, I’ve used commas in places he might have had difficulties getting certain words out.

Sandringham was casual in a way that made Howard Stark’s fancy Long Island mansion look like a rustic bungalow. Both places had wood paneling and plaster moldings, elegant furniture and expensive artwork, but there was something in the air of Sandringham that put it a step above anything Stark’s obscene wealth could get him. Daniel never thought he’d be in a position to say it, but there was definitely a difference between what old money and new money could get you.

It wasn’t that Sandringham was fussy, despite its turrets—it was no Buckingham Palace, which Daniel saw part of during the King’s annual Holiday Lunch earlier in the week—but it was definitely grand. The house alone was bigger than the neighborhood where Daniel grew up, and apparently there were working farms and a stand alone church somewhere on the estate as well. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out there was an entire village somewhere past the well-maintained lawns peopled entirely by the house’s local staff.

Daniel didn’t belong here. He kept waiting for someone to escort him from the premises, and the suspense had him constantly on edge.

Fortunately, though the morning was cold and grey and his leg hurt with a bone deep ache he’d thought he’d never feel again after he moved to California, today was a shooting day. They were shooting ducks in a lake on the estate. There were multiple lakes. Apparently that was necessary. There was an upper lake and a lower lake, and today they were in shallow, 14 foot long wooden row boats on the upper one shooting at birds released on the King’s command by a group of weathered gamekeepers.

Peggy had managed to commandeer one of the boats for just the two of them and a young gamekeeper named Wood, whose sole job seemed to be to collect their guns and reload them between drives. When Daniel started to tell the kid that he was capable of reloading his own guns, Peggy stopped him with an ‘it’s silly, but what can you do’ eye roll she was careful not to let anyone else see. At least with Wood there to manage the guns for them, he and Peggy wouldn’t have to worry about any one gun getting too hot from overuse, especially as Peggy seemed to have a bad habit of stealing Daniel’s guns.

Shooting ducks turned out to be weirdly soothing. He and Peggy fell into their old stakeout routine: quiet conversation, attention to detail, and a tendency to dopily stare into each other’s eyes when there was nothing to shoot at. There would be no making out, though, not in front of the King. Instead, to keep each other alert, they turned their number of kills into a game.

“How are you so bad at this?” Daniel teased as the last drive saw an additional 10 birds in his gamebag to her 9. Peggy was a faster shot than he was, but he was more accurate.

“Are you certain you were a scout during the war? Sure you weren’t a sniper?”

Daniel chuckled and accepted a fresh gun from Wood. “Sure you’re not just jealous?”

Peggy glared at him, but ruined the effect by grinning too.

Daniel noticed that no one in the other boats seemed to be trash talking each other, or if they were, they were being much more subtly British about it. He hoped any word of his bantering with Peggy wouldn’t be seen as poor sportsmanship or gloating. That wasn’t an attractive look on anyone, but certainly not on a potential consort of the future Queen.

“Dinner of fish and chips says you can’t beat me on the next drive either,” he said.

Peggy’s grin turned into a soft smile. “Deal. But if I win you have to buy me a drink down the pub too.”

“You’ll have to choose the pub, but you’re on.”

He debated for a couple of seconds letting her win solely so he could be the one paying for their date, but she’d know and find some way to kick his ass for it later. So, when the next drive started, he sat up straight, brought the gun up to his shoulder, firmly mounted it to his cheek, aimed, fired, then moved his finger to the secondary trigger, and aimed and fired again before handing the gun back to Wood for a fresh one.

9 to 7.

10 to 8.

8 to 9.

9 to 6.

8 to 8.

They flirted and shot and flirted some more. By the time the shooting party broke up in favor of a late luncheon, Peggy owed Daniel two dinners of fish and chips, a trip to the exact hill in Hampstead Heath where she first got drunk, and an introduction to one of her childhood friends who independently wound up in SOE training with her. Daniel owed Peggy a jazz concert and a proper snog. Wood kept throwing Daniel amused glances after that last one.

Getting out of the boat was somehow more difficult than falling into it had been. Daniel was embarrassed that both Peggy and Wood had to help him get back on land, Peggy holding his hand from the dock and Wood steadying him from behind, and even then he nearly dropped his crutch in the water. The only thing that kept him from full embarrassment was the realization that the King had needed similar help out of his boat as well.

The shooting party made its way up the lawn to the gravel walkway in front of the house slower than Daniel might have assumed they would considering the damp, cold weather, but the King was walking slowly, clearly in pain from what Daniel could tell. He wondered if he could offer the man any advice for managing it that the doctors hadn’t already told him, or if that was even his place. There were rules about the rules he was supposed to follow, and it was enough to make even him hesitate over the amount of research involved to try getting it right.

Rather than dwell on it, Daniel focused his attention on Peggy. She looked like an English Artemis in her brown and red checked tweed. At different points since he met her, he’d seen her glamorous and roughed up and coming off of a ten day mission in the mountains, but he’d never seen her look so incredibly British. It looked good on her. Comfortable. Then again, she still had a gun in her hand, and Peggy was never more comfortable in her skin than when she had the immediate potential to kick some serious ass.

“What?” she asked, finally handing the gun off to Wood with a reluctance that was obvious to Daniel, if not to everyone else.

Daniel shrugged, affecting a casualness he only partly felt. “You look good in tweed.”

She blinked, then smiled. “Flatterer. I see you’ve quite taken to it yourself.”

He looked down at himself then back up at her. “Well, it’s no Hawaiian shirt, but it’ll do.”

“Mr. Jarvis made you look quite fetching.”

“But.”

“What?”

“There’s a but coming. You’ve been giving me side eyes all week.”

Peggy shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, it’s only . . . you have been wearing an awful lot of tweed, even before we came out to the country.”

“So?”

“Darling, you do know no one actually dresses like that over here, don’t you? So much tweed all the time. It’s one thing in the country, but in town it’s not the done thing in most circles.”

“In high class royal circles, you mean.”

Peggy looked sad after that comment and Daniel felt like a heel. He looked down at his suit again. Jarvis had mentioned that certain suits were for certain occasions, but the tweed was more comfortable than the two flannel suits he’d bought for day wear. He shrugged and gave Peggy a soft look so she’d know he hadn’t taken offence.

“They feel more like a version of me than those other suits Jarvis made me get. I mean, I can wear them, but I feel like I’m undercover or trying to impersonate Jack or something. These tweed ones, they’re more casual in a way I think I can pull off better.”

“From what I’ve seen of your new wardrobe, you carry it all off quite well,” Peggy flirted, giving him a hint of bedroom eyes he knew they couldn’t do anything about.

He grinned back, allowing a little heat into his gaze as well. 

“Well, as long as you like it,” he said.

They reached the house and followed the rest of the shooting party into one of the dining rooms, where Peggy endured a long conversation about some viscount’s hunting dogs and Daniel flatly denied meeting any Hollywood starlets during his time in LA. He hoped no one caught the look on Peggy’s face at the denial.

After lunch, there were drinks. There was also every kind of pipe, cigarette, and cigar in evidence, masking the room in a fog of tobacco smoke that made Daniel desperate to open a window. He caught Wood hovering in a corner looking like he wanted to do just that.

Daniel walked over to him and said, “I feel like I’m standing inside of a chimney.”

Wood turned to him and laughed. “You’re not a fan of smoking, sir?”

“Never could stand the smell of it,” Daniel said. “My lungs don’t like it.”

“Mine neither, sir. Give me good country air and a loyal dog at my side and I’m set for life.”

“So you’ve found your perfect job, then?”

“It’s the family business, sir. My da’s a gamekeeper here too.”

“Oh yeah? Brought you up to it?”

Wood smiled. “He did. Brought me with him on weekends the royal family wasn’t here, showed me how to hunt and fish and look after things practically since I could walk.”

“Taught you how to love it?”

“Didn’t need to do that, sir. That part were the easy bit.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it. And I appreciate you didn’t let me make too much of an ass of myself today.”

“Not at all, sir. You’re far better with a gun than some first time shooters I’ve worked with. The lads told me all your birds were clean kills.”

“Well, that’s a relief, anyway.” The set up of the shoot had seemed unfair to Daniel, primed for the Guns to bag as many birds as possible, with not as much chance for the ducks to escape unharmed. But then, this was the land of the fox hunt. 

Daniel reached into his pocket as casually as he could and took out a ￡20 note he had folded, waiting there. He palmed it, then reached for Wood’s hand to shake.

“Thanks for making my first duck shoot go so smoothly,” he said. Wood’s grip was firm and sure, without any posturing.

“It was no problem, sir.” Wood accepted the tip with a grin that showed off his youth. His eyes flicked down to his hand after Daniel released it and boggled slightly at the size of the note. He shifted uncomfortably.

“I tipped you way too much, didn’t I?” Daniel asked, feeling stupid and out of place all over again. Then, before Wood could reply, he said. “Tell you what, take the rest of the boys down to the pub tonight and buy everyone a few rounds on me. You don’t even have to give me credit for it.”

Wood hesitated, then said, “All right, sir. Thank you!”

Daniel let the kid make his escape and tried to find another area of the room that wasn’t as smoke-clogged. Unfortunately, all the chairs were in the thickest part of the smoke. His leg throbbed as though in agreement with his annoyance. 

Peggy caught up with him again as he hovered by a set of French doors leading into another large entertainment space.

“How are you holding up?” she asked, standing just a little too close for propriety. Daniel welcomed the teasing play of her fingers as they brushed up against his at their sides.

“It was cold and wet outside, but I think I’d prefer that at this point to all this smoke,” he murmured. Peggy’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Are you all right? Your lungs–”

“Are fine. For now. I know my limits, Peggy.” He tangled their hands together, rubbing his thumb up and down her skin a few times. It seemed to have the calming effect he was hoping for.

“Well, let me know if you need an escape route. I wouldn’t mind escaping elsewhere myself, truth be told.”

“We leave together there’ll be talk.”

“There’s already talk,” Peggy said, looking out into the room. “Apparently I show my preference for you far too much.”

“What a scandal,” Daniel said, unable to hold back the flirtatious grin on his face.

“Indeed,” Peggy said, grin wide and beautiful.

Daniel couldn’t help it, he leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. She tried to deepen it, as she always did, but Daniel pulled away quickly. This wasn’t the place. As though to confirm that, Peggy straightened slightly and moved a more respectable distance away from him.

“You’re being summoned,” she said, looking over Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel’s stomach dropped. He turned and saw the King sitting on a plush chair by the fireplace. His right foot was propped up on a small ottoman and his right hand was beckoning Daniel over. He looked distressingly old for someone who was supposedly only 53.

“Am I gonna get reprimanded for shooting too many birds?” Daniel asked as he adjusted his grip on his crutch. His hands were suddenly sweating. He really hoped he wasn’t gonna get admonished for kissing his fiancée, even if their engagement wasn’t public information yet.

“The head gamekeeper did say to go for the males. No one can fault you for doing just that. Besides, I shot nearly as many.”

“Sure thing.” Somehow Daniel doubted it would make a difference what Peggy did if he did something similar that was frowned upon. She was royalty; he wasn’t.

Peggy caught his hand and squeezed briefly as he passed her. He smiled, feeling slightly more emboldened.

Daniel crutched over to the King as quickly, but as carefully, as he could across the room. He shuddered to think what kind of impression he’d make if he tripped and fell doing something as commonplace as walking over carpet.

He bowed his head slightly when he arrived in front of the King, hoping he struck the balance between deference and disrespect.

“Your Majesty,” he said.

The King gestured to a nearby chair, which Daniel availed himself of with relief. His leg was truly starting to be distracting.

“You enjoyed the, shoot?” the King asked.

“I did,” Daniel replied, wondering exactly what kind of test he was taking at the moment. 

“You did, well. Peggy tells me you’ve never, done it before.”

Daniel decided to play dumb. “Shot ducks? No. Never had reason or opportunity before now.”

“Yet you know your, way around a, gun.”

“War’ll do that to you. And working where I did afterward helped me keep it up.”

“With, Peggy. In the SSR.”

Ah. The spy conversation. The attempt to determine if he was using Peggy as a way to spy on the British government for the Americans. He knew it would come up eventually, but he hadn’t expected it to be brought up practically in public.

“Yes, sir.”

“I can, tell that she likes you,” the King said. It was a weird way to lead into his point, but everyone had their own interrogation style. Daniel opted for the easygoing defense.

“I like to think she does.”

“She’s, softer, around you. Happier too, I think. I’ve been, worried about that.”

Daniel considered that. Peggy had mentioned the King going out of his way to try lightening her burden in what small ways he could. Maybe they weren’t having the spy conversation now after all.

“Peggy’s the strongest woman I know,” Daniel said. “Once she sets her mind to something, there’s very little I’ve encountered that’ll stop her. Slow her down, maybe, but not stop her.”

“True. There’s a, difference though, between, carrying on and, being happy. She, was happy in America.”

“You think she resents her duty?” Daniel asked, careful to give nothing away. The fact that he knew Peggy hated being a princess had nothing to do with what their futures would hold. She would do what she thought was right regardless of anything else, and carrying on the Windsor line was a part of that now.

“I know she, does. I still do.”

Daniel blinked, sitting back. The King’s mouth quirked up in a rueful smile.

“It’s a lonely, job being, King. A, difficult job. It requires, support. Unconditional support. You’d have to, give up everything, if you marry her.”

“I know.”

“I, don’t think you do. You can’t. If you, marry Peggy, your life as you know it, will be over. Everything, will be about her. In, service, to her and to this country. She can’t, do it alone. However much she may, try.”

“And she’ll try.”

“Yes. I imagine she, will.”

“I’m used to that. She gets an idea and goes after it, and I do what I can to support her. Even if it means protecting her from herself sometimes, helping her think through alternative options. Or at least backup plans.”

The King laughed at that, a short chuckle that seemed to surprise even him.

“She’ll need that, kind of support.”

Daniel took a deep breath, then took a chance.

“Sir, I know I’ve got no idea what I’m doing here. This is nothing like any kind of life I ever imagined for myself. But I love Peggy, and that means having to put up with a lot of stuff I never thought I’d have to put up with. That was true even before I found out she was a princess. And it’s worth it, every day. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and I know some stand up gals back home. She’s worth whatever I have to do to be there for her, whatever way she’ll have me.”

The King considered him in silence. Daniel resisted the urge to fidget.

“Will that, be enough?” the King asked.

Daniel regarded him, nonplussed.

“In a few, years’ time, when everything’s no longer, new. Will that, be enough for you? Is, your love for her so, strong?”

Daniel thought about the months after he first moved out to LA, his determination to forget her and how she came in like a tornado to remind him of everything he’d been missing. He thought about the lonely months more recently wanting nothing more than to see her again, to hold her hand and kiss her lips. He looked over and met the King’s eye. “Trust me. Once you fall in love with Peggy Carter, you don’t fall out of it again no matter how hard you try.”

The King's mouth quirked up at the use of Peggy's alias. “And your, family?" he asked. "Your life in America?”

“I’ll probably see my family about as much now as I would have living in LA. And as for my job . . . it was about keeping people safe. I don’t have to be in the States to do that. I don’t have to be on the front lines to do that either. The way I see it, I can do a lot more good in the world standing by Peggy’s side, with her stubbornness and moral compass leading the way, than I could as an agent with the SSR without her. It’s just a different kind of saving the world, is all.”

“You hope to, save the world?”

“It’ll be an inevitability, married to Peggy. She’s not gonna stop just because she’ll be Queen one day. And as head of the Commonwealth,” Daniel shrugged, a small smile on his face. “Let’s just say she’ll find even more opportunities to do just that. And my job will be making sure she comes out on the other side to do it all again.”

The King relaxed back into his chair. “So you do understand.”

“I know Peggy. Everything else,” Daniel paused briefly to look around the room, at the expensive art on the walls and the antique rug on the floor, at the earls and viscounts puffing away like chimneys. He shrugged. “I’ll figure it out.”

The King wore a small smile now. It suited him better than the stress that so clearly lined his face.

“Good,” he said, then gestured to a waiting manservant for more brandy.

The conversation turned to other things then, and Daniel felt as though he’d passed whatever test he’d been taking. Peggy caught his eye from across the room and visibly drooped in relief at the smile he sent her. It would be all right, they could both relax a little now. Daniel could stop waiting to be shown the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Hunting or shooting of any kind are very much not my world. I used [this](https://www.shootinguk.co.uk/answers/a-z-guide-to-shooting-terms-74105) glossary of shooting terms in the writing of this fic, and asked my dad's advice regarding the guns. Any mistakes in usage or description are entirely mine.


End file.
